


Forbidden Games

by Minnow_53



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Romance, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25421278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minnow_53/pseuds/Minnow_53
Summary: It seems like everyone in Seventh Year is paired off except Remus and Sirius.  But they have their own more complex relationship.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 40





	Forbidden Games

**Author's Note:**

> First published on LiveJournal 1/8/05.

It doesn’t matter who it is, as long as there’s someone to touch and hold, to kiss. Remus is a boy too, of course: that hasn’t escaped his notice. In fact, it adds a frisson to the games they play at night, usually in the Shack, when nobody can see them and nobody knows.

It’s only physical; it doesn’t mean a thing, but it feels so good, so good to be able to release all that pent up tension into a warm hand, an eager mouth, a tight body. He may sometimes find himself groaning ‘Remus’, but that’s almost like a reflex. As soon as they have proper girlfriends, they won’t need to do this any more.

All the same, he finds he can hardly wait until the next time.

*

Sex always kicks in anyway, the last few terms at school, but with the unrest in the wizarding world, the pupils are feeling a bit scared too, slightly desperate as well as lustful. They’ve heard their parents muttering that there’s a war brewing, and all too soon they’ll be out there in the centre of the conflict. _Gather ye rosebuds while ye may_ , as the Muggle poet says.

Technically, Sirius is going out with Sylvia, the most beautiful girl in school. She’s a Black cousin, and every bit as imperious and temperamental as the rest of the family. They’ve had two dates so far, right at the beginning of term, and he can hardly be said to be seeing her. But nobody except Remus knows they’ve pretty well broken up. There wasn’t anything to break up, really. Sirius suspects that she doesn’t even like him. 

Remus is the only other Seventh Year who isn’t wandering round in a daze, holding hands with the object of his desire. When pressed about his lack of girlfriends, he either pretends not to hear or, if it’s one of the Marauders asking, mumbles something about being a werewolf and it not being fair.

‘But you really like Gertie, don’t you? The girl in our Muggle Studies group?’ Sirius says, keeping their secret; always keeping their secret.

‘I can’t go out with someone called Gertie,’ Remus answers, with one of his rather haughty looks, which are almost worthy of Sirius.

Sirius notices that Remus does seem to fancy Gertie, though. She has glorious yellow hair that falls almost to her waist. Remus’s very high Muggle Studies mark will start to fall if he’s going to stare at her during class instead of paying attention. It’s important for him to do well, because his employment prospects in the real world are grim: if he survives the real world, that is. Sirius has to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t jeopardise his future.

‘You spent the whole lesson gawking at her,’ Sirius says, when the teacher’s dismissed them. ‘Couldn’t you ask if she has a middle name, or something?’

‘Doris,’ Remus replies. ‘It’s even worse, isn’t it?’

Sirius puts his arm comfortingly round Remus. ‘Never mind, Moony.’ He squeezes his shoulder. Just touching Remus has an instant effect, and his eyes are a bit glazed as he leans forward, whispers, ‘It doesn’t matter. Later, okay? Please?’

And Remus, equally glazed, whispers back, ‘Now.’ They linger behind as the classroom empties, waiting for the professor to leave so they can put a locking charm on the door. 

Sirius wants to fuck him, wants to quite shockingly, because Remus is not a girl, and doesn’t feel soft and yielding, the way he imagines a girl would. But a girl wouldn’t, surely, feel so warm, so perfect, pressed against a wall, with Sirius’s hands all over him, making him cry out as well.

It’s only sex, but he’s grateful to Remus for the distraction. Sometimes, he feels the shadow brushing a bit too close: his brother, it’s rumoured, is going round with a group of Slytherins who bear that same mysterious tattoo on their wrists, the one Regulus won’t let him see. 

*

The four of them sprawl under the tree in the autumn sunshine, chatting desultorily about wordless magic – after a full year, Peter still can’t master the simplest spell – until Lily Evans strolls past, mock-casually. James leaps to his feet, almost knocking Sirius to the ground, unusual for someone so graceful. ‘See you, guys,’ he says, running off to join her. 

‘Slavering,’ Sirius says. ‘Disgusting.’

He waits for Peter to spring to James’s defence, but Peter’s eyes glaze over as he gazes at his girlfriend, Regan, who’s apparently appeared from nowhere under an Invisibility Cloak. He manages to look stupid and predatory at the same time, Sirius thinks.

Peter grabs the robes he’s been sitting on, and sets off in her wake. ‘Catch up with you later,’ he calls back, as he rushes after her.

‘Looks like her pet dog,’ Sirius comments. He silently sends a stumbling spell towards him, so Peter trips and falls. Regan, all sympathy, helps him up, and they walk on hand in hand.

‘That wasn’t very kind,’ Remus remarks, looking up from his NEWT-Level _Eating Problems in Kneazles._

‘It wasn’t supposed to be,’ Sirius snaps, in a thoroughly bad mood. He then spies a group of Slytherin girls spreading themselves over the grass, taking all the best and sunniest patches.

‘I’m going to have a word with my girlfriend,’ Sirius says. He doesn’t mean to be sadistic: he feels he must be seen at least to make an effort with a girl, and it’s always fun to pester Sylvia anyway. Remus watches him as he walks across the grass, pretending to read his Kneazle book, but not quite succeeding. Sirius doesn’t want to glance back, but he does, and is glad that he isn’t the one looking so alone and pathetic.

Sylvia is sunbathing with her friends. It’s so hot that she’s taken off her robes, and is wearing nothing but a bikini top and a very short skirt. Sirius leans over her, gives his best smile, and says, ‘Hi, Sylvia.’

‘Oh. Black. Could you move a bit, please? You’re blocking the sun.’

Sirius sits down next to her. One of Bellatrix’s younger sisters protests, ‘Sylvie, do we really need your blood traitor joining us?’

‘He’s not _mine_ ,’ Sylvia drawls. ‘I didn’t invite him.’

‘Be a good boy, Black, and run back to your little Gryffindor friends,’ Bellatrix’s sister says. ‘Come on, shoo.’

Sirius gets up, gathering the tattered shreds of his dignity round him. Remus is watching unabashedly, to his intense irritation. Why the hell couldn’t he just concentrate on his bloody book?

He decides to act as if nothing’s happened. He plonks himself down next to Remus, and says casually, ‘Well, got a date for tomorrow.’

‘Liar!’ splutters Remus. ‘I heard every word.’

‘You’re the liar, Remus. You couldn’t have.’

‘I did.’

‘Well, good for you. At least girls fancy me.’

‘So why try to go out with the only one who doesn’t?’

‘She _did_ go out with me, idiot.’

A group of Slytherin Seventh Years stroll confidently across the grass, with Severus Snape a few paces behind, and plonk themselves down with Sylvia and her friends. Their laughter floats across the lawn, and Sirius gets up abruptly. ‘I’m off. Going to finish that Muggle Studies essay.’ This time he doesn’t look back as he strides toward the castle, though part of him clenches at the way they can manage to laugh, those boys who’ve so carelessly sold their souls to Voldemort and his cause.

Later, he’ll press against Remus and whisper, ‘Moony, oh Moony, don’t stop, don’t stop…’ He’s glad that Remus is always so forgiving. He won’t once think of Sylvia, not even for a second.

*

‘She let me touch her boobs!’ James is singing, dancing round the dorm until he’s so dizzy that he falls back on the bed. 

Peter tries to look happy for his mentor, but his distress is obvious. ‘Oh. Listen, Prongs… At what sort of stage are you?’

‘Well,’ James says, ‘we’ve been kissing for ages, and that’s a bit old hat now, really.’

Peter looks dismayed. ‘But, kissing…that’s something, isn’t it?’

‘Nothing like touching her boobs,’ James says. ‘I can’t begin to tell you -’ He quite suddenly clamps his mouth shut. ‘Anyway. It’s not really anyone’s business is it?’

‘Don’t keep telling us about it then,’ grumbles Sirius. ‘We don’t want to know.’

‘You and Sylvia,’ James said. ‘How far have you got?’

Sirius flashes a warning look at Remus. James is always with Lily these days, and therefore hasn’t witnessed the two or three rather painful scenes between him and Sylvia, of which this latest one is only a sample. 

‘Oh. Well, all the way, of course.’ He sees the expression on James’s face, and hastily adds, ‘I was going to tell you first, Prongs, but as you asked…’ He indicates the other two with a wave of his hand, hoping he’s succeeded in implying that this is a very new development. It’s never a good idea to make up stories on the spur of the moment. 

James and Peter believe him: why shouldn’t they? It seems only fair that the gorgeous Sirius Black should be way ahead in losing his virginity. Anyway, he isn’t a virgin. It’s just not quite the way they'd envisage it. He does wonder what Prongs in particular would say if he found out that Remus has also had sex, so many times that both of them lost count months ago. 

‘What’s it like?’ Peter is wide-eyed, avid for details.

Sirius casts his mind back to his sessions with Remus, any of them. ‘Well. It’s really amazing, actually.’ He’s getting turned on just thinking of those nights, of the heat and the friction and Remus writhing beneath him, or on top…

James waves a hand in front of his eyes. ‘Earth to Padfoot. Is it really that good then?’

He sounds a bit incredulous, and Sirius wonders for a moment whether he’s only humouring him, pretending to believe him because he’s so happy with Lily and wants his best friend to be happy too. 

‘It’s sort of hot and tight.’ Because James is looking at him expectantly, he improvises, ‘And slithery.’

Remus snorts. ‘Slithery? Is that because she’s a Slytherin, Padfoot?’

Sirius is both annoyed at his levity and grateful that he’s playing along. He shrugs. ‘I can’t really describe it.’ That’s true, at any rate. ‘You’ll have to wait and find out for yourselves. Which reminds me, I have a date with Sylvia tonight. After lights-out.’ He glances at Remus, to indicate that that this is code for ‘Let's sneak out to the Shack.’ Well, Remus knows that already. 

‘Lucky bugger!’ James said. ‘Perhaps I should – ’

‘No,’ Remus said firmly. ‘Do you honestly think Lily’d agree to break rules?’

‘Well, maybe not.’ James isn’t entirely convinced. ‘I wish he’d made someone else Head Boy,’ he mutters, getting up to take off his crumpled robes.

Sirius is profoundly grateful that Dumbledore didn’t choose Remus.

*

‘At Muggle boarding schools,’ Remus says, slinging his arm round Sirius’s shoulder, as they make their way to the Shack, because the days are warm, but it is autumn and the nights are chilly, ‘the boys all pair up together. If there aren’t any girls. It’s just…expedient. They all end up perfectly normal.’

He often talks about Muggle boarding schools, as if to reassure himself, Sirius thinks. He wonders what’s going on with Remus sometimes: he wonders what’s going on with _him_. 

Usually, Sirius casts a few spells to make the Shack more hospitable, and Remus lights a fire. Sirius wishes he wouldn’t: he has this stupid, superstitious fear that somebody will manage to Floo in by accident, and catch him and Remus at it.

Tonight, though, neither can wait, and they fling themselves on to the bed, not even bothering to provide light to see by. Not that they need to see: they know each other by heart. They kiss hungrily, unbuttoning their robes with shaking hands so they can lie skin against skin.

Afterwards. Sirius lights his wand, strokes back Remus’s hair. ‘Your fringe is too long, Moony. I don’t know how you can see to stare at Gertie all the time.’

‘Shut up. I don’t.’

They often start off like that, too wound up to wait. ‘Hormonal imperatives,’ Sirius says, because he’s read ahead in his Wizarding Sex Education textbook. He’s sure it applies to boys together as much as to more conventional couples: probably even more so. 

Sometimes, they don’t manage to slow down that much the second time. Tonight, Sirius tries, he really does, to take it slowly and think about the approaching war. But they’re lying naked together on the bed, with a fire going now and the room charmed to look passable at least, and the sight and feeling of Remus against him, the sound of his uneven breathing, send him over the edge. 

Sirius traces his hand idly down Remus’s side and wonders what it would be like if he were here with a girl. It’s so easy when it’s two blokes: narcissistic, almost, like looking in a mirror, at someone who knows exactly what you like and how to turn you on. 

‘I sometimes think…well, girls are complicated, aren’t they?’

‘Yes,’ Remus murmurs, but they’re kissing again, and girls recede from his mind, because they’re now getting down to the real sex, as if it weren’t all real enough. They have the occasional tussle about who goes on top, but generally they resolve it quite amicably.  


They stay in the shack, dozing intermittently, for a couple of hours, then put their robes back on and make their way back to the school.

*

It’s two in the morning, and nothing is stirring. Before they go up to the dorm, Sirius sits on the front steps of the castle, smoking one of his last cigarettes, wishing he’d never started because now he’s in the habit of rounding off their evenings in the Shack with a fag. He looks out into the dark night, where the new moon has already set, and concentrates on finding Sirius, his own star. It’s too misty, though, and wisps of cloud drift across the sky, distracting him. 

Remus leans against him, and he’s childishly pleased to feel him, solid and reassuring. He hugs him closer. 

‘Give me a drag,’ Remus begs.

‘But I’ve only got two more left!’

‘Oh, come on.’

Sirius hands over his cigarette reluctantly. Remus always takes such deep drags, and then he can’t enjoy the rest. ‘You don’t want to get addicted, Moony.’

‘I won’t.’ Remus takes three drags, not one, and hands the cigarette back predictably ruined. Sirius stubs it out. They should go in, but he’s enjoying the moment, just for what it is, not as a hot, erotic interlude but as two friends sharing a smoke in the middle of the night. He can still smell Remus on him: he’s often reluctant to go too far with the Scourgifying charms because he loves the smell of sex, on both of them. Remus is more fastidious, sadly, but he can’t make Sirius wash if he doesn’t want to.

‘Can I light another cigarette for you?’ Remus asks. ‘Please? Just to start it?’

‘Oh, all right. But just to start it. You always make them so hot.’

Remus lights the cigarette with his wand, and starts to smoke it, forgetting to give it back to Sirius. Sirius doesn’t mind, though. He feels a bit light-headed with nicotine and exhaustion, and really wants to go back to the dorm and to bed: he’s sure that enough time has elapsed for his ‘date’ with Sylvia to be considered a roaring success. Well, it was a roaring success; the fact that he had sex with Remus and not Sylvia is neither here nor there in absolute terms. 

As if he’s reading Sirius’s mind, Remus say, ‘You certainly convinced Prongs. About Sylvia.’

‘Really? I was thinking of what _we_ do, actually.’ He’s reluctant to admit it. 

Remus picks up on his reluctance as well. ‘I’m so fed up with not having a girlfriend,’ he says. ‘I’m a total outcast this year.’

Stung, Sirius retorts, ‘So am I.’

‘Is it that bad being like me? 

‘But I’m not like you, am I?’

Remus rubs his forehead against Sirius’ arm. ‘No. You’re handsome and brilliant. But you don’t have a girlfriend either. Well, everyone thinks you do, so you’re not really left out.’ He suddenly realises that he’s smoked most of Sirius’s cigarette, and holds out the glowing stub. ‘Oh, sorry. D’you want the last puff?’

‘No. We should go in now, anyway.’

Neither of them moves, all the same. Sirius muses about the differences between them. Maybe Remus isn’t handsome, not the way he is. But he has an open – deceptively open – face, and beautiful eyes, and a very sensuous mouth. Well, he does when you look at him: if you just glance, you mainly notice that he usually seems a bit pale and unwell. And he isn’t so effortlessly brilliant, but he’s certainly one of the top five students in the year.

Remus says, ‘I just never quite dare go up to Gertie and ask her. I mean, you don’t seem to care when Sylvia turns you down or just ignores you. But if _you_ get turned down, what hope do I have?’

Back in the dorm, they undress silently; without asking, Sirius slips into Remus’s bed beside him, and closes the curtains with a wave of his wand. They snuggle together wordlessly until they fall asleep. Sirius is not imagining that Remus is a girl, and he doesn’t think Remus is imagining that he is either.

*

The next morning, they both feel as tired as they would after a full moon; and probably as aching, Sirius thinks ruefully, sharing a quick smile with Remus as they sit down to breakfast. 

In the current climate it’s just as well that he and Remus are only experimenting, if the gloomy headlines in James’s _Daily Prophet_ are anything to go by. The wizarding world is no more homophobic than the Muggle one, but then Muggles aren’t especially tolerant either. Sirius can’t see things getting much better in the future, because Voldemort may be currying favour with dark creatures, but at the same time he’s pontificating about the need to purge the world of half-bloods and perverts. 

Not that having sex with Remus for convenience is exactly a perversion, or even an aberration. It doesn’t make either of them less than straight: if they had girls, they’d stop sleeping together like a flash. 

Sylvia waves at him almost jauntily as the Marauders leave the Great Hall to go and make their beds. James beams approvingly. ‘Good date, Padfoot?’

‘Yeah, brilliant.’ For some reason, Sirius’s heart sinks a bit. However much he makes a show of pretending there could be something between Sylvia and him, he’s never quite factored in what he’d do if she really showed any renewed interest in him. In fact, it might be a good idea to tell James that he and Sylvia are finished. Not for the first time, he thanks Merlin fervently that James is so wrapped up in Lily that he doesn’t have a clue what’s going on under his own nose.

The first lesson today is cross-country. This year, any student who doesn’t play Quidditch has to participate in two-mile runs, which take place in Hogwarts grounds and round Hogsmeade. 

Being a dog and rat and running with a wolf is one thing. Running in boy form is more difficult, especially in voluminous school robes: for some reason, none of the staff have ever considered that the students might find it easier to wear lighter clothes. Wands are confiscated at the start, so nobody can cheat and cast a levitation or lightening spell.

Those early morning cigarettes are starting to take their toll, especially when combined with a fairly sleepless and active night. However, Remus and Sirius wordlessly, and rather guiltily, manage to keep going for a while after Peter has given up, so they can drop out a few yards further down, just at the boundary hedge between the school and Hogsmeade.

They wriggle through the hole in the hedge, which is getting suspiciously larger after every lesson, then look round to check that nobody’s coming so they can snog a bit. Eventually, Sirius pulls out his last cigarette, and suggests they share it. He fumbles with the disposable lighter.

‘Shit. Why can’t we have our wands?’

‘Keep your voice down, Padfoot. We don’t want anyone to find us.’

Sirius hates, really hates, being told to keep his voice down, but he understands that Remus is only anxious that someone might see them, hunkered down behind a hedge, kissing, smoking, and letting off steam generally about their hatred of running. They watch from a safe distance as the others gradually go past, with Professor Quinn running between groups of stragglers, urging them on.

Nobody’s going to notice if they’re missing, and they lie in the shadow of the hedge and snog some more. That’s what’s so good about it, Sirius muses. He can’t imagine a girl not making a fuss about the ground being hard, or the sun being too bright, or the hedge getting a bit threadbare now. Or touching him in just the right way to make him forget, for a few seconds, that the world can be a cold and lonely place. 

*

He’s in the library, watching Remus; usually, they’d be together, but Gertie came up to Remus a few minutes ago, tossing her long, cornsilk hair, and has spirited him off to the Transfiguration section. Sirius hopes she just wants help with the essay on small tin objects: at any rate, they’re talking earnestly to each other, and have actually sat down now at the table to continue their discussion. Any second now, Remus will bring out a roll of parchment, surely…

‘Hi, Padfoot!’ James pulls out a chair with a loud scrape, and the librarian turns and looks in their direction, scowling. 

‘Where’s Lily?’ It’s unprecedented for them to be apart these days, but James isn’t concerned. 

‘Around. I need to ask you something.’

For one quite glorious moment Sirius imagines that James is going to suggest a prank. It’s been ages; with both a Head Boy and a Prefect in their ranks, they haven’t really felt very inspired this term. Sirius would love to do something to scupper some of those Slytherins with their secret marks. Perhaps a fullscale Imperius. Well, that’s hardly a prank, is it? He hates the way life has become so grim.

‘I want to know how you do it,’ James in saying, his voice low and urgent. Sirius stares at him uncomprehendingly. 

‘What?’

‘Padfoot, please don’t be thick! Not now. You’ve done it with Sylvia – where is she, anyway?’

‘We’re not joined at the hip, Prongs. In fact, we’re not going out any more.’ He tries to inject some misery into his voice, but doesn’t quite manage it.

‘Oh.’ James’s face falls, almost comically.

‘I can still tell you,’ Sirius improvises, talking himself into trouble, as usual. He knows that, even as he speaks, but his tongue will run away with him. He takes a deep breath. ‘It’s no big deal. You, well, you put it in there…’ He looks to check that James is with him.

James nods several times, leaning forward across the table, as if they were eleven again and working out how to make Snivellus’s robes fall off as he goes into dinner. ‘Yes, I know the mechanics. In theory. But… Is it difficult?’ He waves his hands helplessly.

‘Oh, it can be. You need to be patient. And, and gentle. There’s a spot that you…’

James is bright red. ‘I know. The clitoris.’

Sirius thanks his lucky stars that women have erogenous spots too. He was worried for a minute there that he’d said too much. ‘Yes, yes, that’s it. And, well, once you know where that is. Roughly. Then it should be okay.’ 

James is obviously relieved, though why, Sirius can’t tell. It’s not as if he’s told him anything he doesn’t know. Perhaps it helps just to be reassured that it can be done, even if they’re talking at complete cross-purposes.

‘Hey, looks like Moony’s finally getting off with that girl,’ James says, nudging Sirius.

Remus and Gertie have their heads close together. By the light of the orange lamps in the library, Remus’s hair looks golden, and his face less pale than usual. To Sirius, he seems utterly beautiful at that moment, and no doubt to Gertie as well. Sirius has to hold on to the sides of his chair to restrain himself from leaping across the room to drag Remus away and ravish him among the stacks of books about _Transfiguring Large Mammals_ , solid volumes that could withstand many couplings, and probably have.

It’s perfectly normal for a seventeen year-old boy to be aroused at the sight of one of his best friends, Sirius tells himself. It’s displacement, the same way as the sex is displacement. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if the talk with James and Gertie’s rather big breasts didn’t have something to do with it too. He just happened to be looking at Remus and thinking about him and their nights at the Shack

Damn. He saunters over – he’s allowed to _talk_ to Remus, after all – and leans on their table. He has a horrible feeling he’s leering. Remus has rolled up the sleeves of his robe, and Sirius finds himself staring at his forearm. He’s put his quill absent-mindedly behind his ear, and Sirius takes it away: a proprietary gesture. Remus smiles at him, but Sirius can see his attention is mainly fixed on Gertie. She is very pretty, damn it. Her eyes, he notices are a clear, sapphire blue. He always knew he hated blue eyes.

*

And suddenly _he’s_ the odd one out. He doesn’t care too much: after all, he’s had a lifetime of being a Black, at the centre of the web of purebloods, at the heart of the magical world. He’s got too much going for him to be an object of pity: looks, brains, and an ability to conjure up enough arrogance to stop anyone even thinking of feeling sorry for him. Plus, of course, he does have an ex-girlfriend, so he’s just like the other boys anyway.

Besides, it’s his own choice. Sylvia always was a lost cause, and she’s now going out with one of those swaggering Slytherins who keep their robes pulled well down over their wrists. He could easily steal any number of girls from their boyfriends, but what’s the point? What’s the point of love and romance, if you’re going to be plunged into a deadly war as soon as you’ve left school? Which is why the thing he has, _had_ , with Remus was so great: all the passion with none of the frills. He thought Remus understood that too, but obviously he didn’t.

Anyway, Remus doesn't need to ask his permission to go out with someone, does he? Their relationship hasn't changed, either. Maybe a bit; nothing to worry about. They’re still friends, thought it’s not quite the same any more.

Remus is now with Gertie most of the time; not all the time, though, and after a week of watching them make googly eyes at each other and sit close together in lessons and the library, he manages to get Remus alone. Remus looks better alone, Sirius thinks. He just doesn’t look right with a girl. It’s a stupid thought, but it’s true, anyway.

The Indian summer has finally ended. It’s a grey, wet October morning, and neither of them should still be upstairs in the dorm, but Sirius has lost his Potions textbook, and Professor Slughorn sent him back to look for it. Remus has a free period, and is spending it, for some reason, staring out of the dorm window at the rain.

Sirius isn’t going to miss this opportunity, and starts straight in. ‘I thought you refused to go out with someone called Gertie.’

Remus scuffs his shoes, and looks at the ground. ‘Well. She pestered me, and… I just want to be like everyone else, okay? It’s bad enough being a werewolf, isn’t it? Like being something that shouldn’t even exist.’

‘Does she know?’

‘No! And she’s not going to either.’

Sirius takes him by the wrist and draws him close. ‘D’you kiss her?’

‘Not yet.’

He doesn’t resist when Sirius puts his arms round him and draws him close. They kiss for a while; for quite a while, until they’re both short of breath and eager, desperate even, for more.

‘We shouldn’t be doing this,’ Remus gasps at last, trying to push Sirius away.

He’s strong, but Sirius is stronger: werewolf strength is a pleasant myth, but a myth nonetheless. He holds Remus tightly, so Remus can’t squirm away, or even move. They’re pressed very close together, and he can feel that Remus is every bit as turned on as he is; he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes and buries his face in Remus’s shoulder for a moment, before asking, ‘Why not?’

‘Because… Things are different now. I have a girlfriend, Sirius. It’s not right to do anything with you.’

‘Even if she won’t kiss you?’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. She will.’ Somehow, they’re now on Sirius’s bed, and their robes and trousers are undone, and neither of them could stop even if they wanted to.

There’s a long silence afterwards, punctuated only by the sound of the rain pattering on the window.

‘You’ll get a detention from Slughorn,’ Remus murmurs. He’s nearly asleep, and Sirius brushes his hair from his forehead, as he’s done so many times before. 

‘I know. You must wake up, Moony. The house-elves will be up to clean the dorm in a minute.’

Instead, Remus curls up tightly, as if he were trying to vanish into himself. ‘I don’t care.’

Sirius gets off the bed. His Potions book, which was on his bedside table all along, has got a bit torn and crumpled, but he's not going to worry about it. ‘I’m off. Come on, Gertie’ll be waiting for you.’

Remus turns away and doesn’t answer.

*

For the next few days, Remus and Gertie seem to be everywhere: they’ve obviously upped their relationship a gear, and Remus occasionally slips his arms round her shoulder or holds her hand.

It’s not as if Sirius cares. Wasn’t that always the agreement, that they were doing this until one or both of them got a girlfriend? It’s just that he somehow never thought it would really happen; or at least, he never thought Remus would be the one. 

He’s seen Remus kissing Gertie too; he has a suspicion that it was deliberate, that he was meant to see, that Remus chose that moment, as he walked into the common room, to brush Gertie’s lips with his.

At least the wolf is theirs, Padfoot thinks with savage pleasure when the full moon comes, running and playing and herding Remus with such energy that he feels almost as drained as Remus must when the night is over. 

Professor McGonagall chooses the morning after the moon to take a whole lesson in cat form, as a demonstration of how the Animagus form retains human consciousness. Her wand is clumsy in her paw as she waves it to write on the board, _‘Turn to page 87 in your textbooks._ ’ James, Sirius and Peter pass a few panicky notes, but the timing seems coincidental. 

After the lesson, an anxious Gertie asks them where Remus is. Sirius walks away, not waiting to hear what James has to say: he’s unable either to speak to Gertie or look at her, unless she’s with Remus. 

Later, James tries to get Sirius on his own, but Sirius doesn’t even want to talk to his best mate. From the way he and Lily are always leaning towards each other, he assumes they’ve actually done it, and everything’s gone okay. He’s not churlish enough to resent James’s happiness, though he does get annoyed when Peter goes on and on because his girlfriend finally lets him touch her below the waist. It’s as if they all have invisible checklists for this stuff, he thinks sourly, whereas it could all be so simple, the way it used to be for him and Moony.

What annoys him most is the way Remus has now joined the ranks of the righteous, and James and Peter include him in their ‘how far have you got?’ conversations at night in the dorm. He’s glad he made up his tales about Sylvia, because they assume he’s an expert anyway, and leave him alone.

This evening, with Remus back from the infirmary, they’re in full spate. Peter especially is quite anxious for Remus, as a new contender, not to beat him in the race to get a girl to bed. ‘Moony. When you kiss her. D’you get turned on?’

Remus, who’s slipped all too easily into his role of boyfriend, says, ‘Well, of course I do. Gertie’s a beautiful girl.’

Sirius resents the ‘of course’. James doesn’t help when he says, ‘Lily told me that Gertie’s always going on about you, Moony. She’s head over heels.’ 

Well, Remus must be doing something right, Sirius thinks. He’s certainly had enough practice. Remus is avoiding his eye, anyway, looking directly at Peter, glancing at James from time to time.

Later, he’s finally falling asleep, after tossing restlessly for a good hour, when his curtains open, and Remus slips into bed with him. His immediate reaction is anger: how dare he, how dare he come along to gloat? He must know…

‘Go back to your own bed, Remus. Come on, I’m tired. And you’re supposed to be resting.’

‘I miss the cigarettes,’ Remus says. ‘I’m having withdrawal symptoms.’ He may be trying to be funny, defiant even, but the words come across as unbearably wistful.

‘Really? You haven't smoked for ages. You should have got all the nicotine out of your system by now. Unless you bought some later, and haven’t been sharing.’

‘It’s not just the cigarettes,’ Remus says, so softly that Sirius can barely hear him. He curls up close and puts his head on Sirius’s shoulders. ‘I know I shouldn’t be here, and you’re angry, and I’ve got Gertie, but…’

‘But what?’ Sirius is mollified, though not in the mood to let Remus off the hook. Remus was the one who left, wasn’t he? If he wants to come back, he’ll have to beg a bit.

‘Well. You know, when we leave school. There’s going to be a war, isn’t there?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘We won’t be doing this. It’s wrong, but it’s just while we’re at school. We talked about it before, didn’t we? That we wouldn’t be able to once we left. So. I want us to carry on. While we can.’

‘What about Gertie?’

‘What about her? I was lying to Peter, you know. I don’t seem to get turned on unless I’m with you. It doesn’t mean anything, of course. She’s just not the right girl, that’s all.’

‘No, she isn’t,’ Sirius agrees. 

They hold each other close, kissing fiercely, until the tension between them is unbearable, and he casts a privacy charm with one hand, unable to let go of Remus with the other. He clenches his teeth so he won’t moan, trying to be as quiet as possible in case the spell hasn’t taken, hissing ‘Shhh,’ to Remus, who giggles and gasps, almost in the same, shaky breath.

They’re both aching with arousal, clumsy in their need for each other: after all, it's been about a week now since that time in the dorm. But for some reason, he doesn’t know why, once they’ve got into the rhythm it’s almost languorous, a sensation of desire rather than lust, slow and luxurious and seeming to last forever, as if they suddenly have all the time in the world. He doesn’t understand it, because they have so little time, really. 

They go to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms. 

**End**


End file.
